


Lifeline

by Klitch



Series: Afford [2]
Category: K (Anime)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-01
Updated: 2016-11-01
Packaged: 2018-08-28 08:42:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8438959
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Klitch/pseuds/Klitch
Summary: “You sent me down into the dark because you knew you’d made a plan to bring me out of it. Who was supposed to bring you out, Captain?” They were dead men restored to life, and for once Fushimi was the one reaching out for someone else’s hand.





	

**Author's Note:**

> First fic for Reisaru Week. I didn't intend to post a continuation to Afford, but I got an ask about it and this seemed like a good week to write it (especially since I posted the first one for Reisaru Day initially).

The hallways of Scepter 4 were dark and silent as Fushimi stood in front of the closed door, one hand raised to knock. His leg throbbed in pain and he shifted, careful not to drop the irritating crutches that he’d been forced to use until his injured thigh healed.

It had been a week, at most, since the destruction of the Dresden Slate and the defeat of jungle. Half of that week Fushimi only remembered as fleeting images in his head, scattered memories of disinfectant and painkillers, bandages, IVs, and a lot of pointless fuss. He recalled the Lieutenant nearly breaking his back hugging him and then the rest of the Special Forces squad repeating the action, a cacophony of relieved voices and gentle hands as they helped him into one of the vans directly after Hirasaka Douhan dragged him out from the underground, followed by the steady beeping of machines when he woke up hours later in the hospital with Misaki pacing by his bedside.

And here and there, through it all, flashes of the exhausted face of his King looking down at him and brushing the hair from his forehead, smoothing the crisp hospital sheets and staring at the charts by his bedside.

_“You are, after all, the one person I cannot afford to lose.”_ Words that repeated in his head still, from that long night what felt like a lifetime ago, back before green had joined the red and blue coursing through his veins, and Fushimi clicked his tongue in annoyance. It wasn’t the only echo there, not anymore – so many long nights in between, curled in on himself in the depths of jungle’s hideout trying to quiet everything that pounded in his head, things he couldn’t forget even if he wanted to. 

_“The one person I cannot afford to lose.”_

_“You’re used to being a traitor.”_

_“I may have to say words to you that I do not mean.”_

_“Pathetic.”_

(And between those spaces, something else: _“Tell me what it is you want,”_ a kiss on the forehead and the sensation if being filled, the tactile sensations of fingers on his skin, warm breath and his body on fire and he would wake up covered in sweat and shaking from the force of memories not so easily buried.)

They hadn’t spoken much, since then. Dry pleasantries, mostly – Munakata had been the one to pick him up from the hospital and transport him back to Scepter 4, helping him into the van and storing the crutches in the back seat. The drive had been short and largely silent, filled only with the sort of bland small talk that made Fushimi’s fists clench. Useless things like how he was feeling, a rundown of the doctor’s orders for his further recovery, prescriptions for painkillers and the order to stay off his feet as much as possible, a list of foods he was supposed to eat to gain back the weight he’d lost during the mission. A list Fushimi had conveniently lost at the first opportunity, only for Munakata to appear in front of his room with a copy and a plate full of lunch, waiting in the doorway and watching as Fushimi ate it. Still no words between them but hollow things, speaking around the substance that should have filled the silences, and Fushimi had felt hazy enough at the time that he’d allowed it.

Fushimi had spent the rest of the week bored out of his mind, skulking in the corners of the office until Awashima spotted him and told him to go back to his room and rest. Officially he was still off duty and any attempt at getting around that order had been handily stopped, every member of the Special Forces squad suddenly deciding that they weren’t too cowed by him to send him back to his sickbed if they spotted him trying to sneak a peek at his own abandoned computer. It had been dull, certainly, but he’d discovered other things too, having to focus his eyes elsewhere.

Munakata had also been injured in the battle, the small scar and four stitches on his forehead nearly hidden behind his bangs proof of that. Despite that he had still been working, coming out of his office only rarely to convene with a clearly worried Awashima or to give the troops an update on the current situation surrounding the destruction of the Slate. He’d seemed the same as always, despite the loss of a part of himself – that clear unshakeable confidence still strong and pure, voice still regal and commanding without a hint of regret or weakness.

It made Fushimi sick.

After everything they’d done – everything _Munakata_ had done, that day in the snow a year ago and the decision he’d been forced into – Fushimi doubted anyone would have blamed Munakata if he’d been upset by the loss of the power that had once been as much a part of him as an arm or a leg. But Munakata showed no sign of that at all, no hint of weakness or displeasure, just that bland smile that made him look to Fushimi like a puppet performing in a play, all perfect lines with just a hint of stiffness to remind the viewer that none of it was real once the strings were cut.

And that was how Fushimi had ended up here, in front of Munakata’s room in the middle of the night, leaning on his crutches with an irritated look as he considered whether or not going through with this would mean anything.

_“I fully expect you to carry out the mission to the full extent of your abilities and then return to me unharmed at the completion.”_ Such expectations, the weight Fushimi had carried all this time even knowing that Munakata had never intended any such thing from the very start. He’d expected Fushimi to _return,_ of course, Misaki and Hirasaka were proof enough of that. But returning _to him,_ that was another story.

Just as much as Fushimi himself, Munakata Reisi had intended to die that day in the final fight against jungle and Fushimi could still see that resolve hovering over him even now, the invisible Sword of Damocles that hadn’t disappeared fully, not yet.

Fushimi clicked his tongue, annoyed at himself and at the dark cloud of thoughts that refused to clear itself away, and finally he knocked sharply on the door. There was a long silence from within and Fushimi wondered if Munakata would scold him for aggravating his injuries if he tried to kick the door down.

“Ah, Fushimi-kun. Please come in.”

The door didn’t open but the voice traveled easily to his ears anyway and Fushimi didn’t even bother to ask how Munakata had known it was him there waiting. With a slight grimace he took hold of his crutches again and pushed the door open, limping inside.

Munakata was waiting for him just as he had been on that night before everything had changed between them, in the same chair and wearing only his light robe. His face was turned to one side, eyes averted away from Fushimi and staring out the far window instead. The light was low, a single lamp illuminating the entire room, and Fushimi’s eyes were for a moment drawn to the dip in Munakata’s robe and the smooth expanse of chest exposed there, and the sudden memory of a body pressed against his made his steps falter for just a moment.

“Were you waiting for me, Captain?” Fushimi kept his voice cold and calm and Munakata smiled wanly back at him, eyes fixing on Fushimi’s at last. Fushimi found himself looking away almost immediately without being able to stop himself, and his body felt oddly hot.

_(Those same striking eyes staring into his, unfathomable like the stars and fixated only on him as Munakata moved inside of him, and Fushimi’s body couldn’t help but react at the strength of the recollection.)_

“While I do pride myself on my ability to read the intent of those around me, I’m afraid it does not stretch as far as foresight,” Munakata said. “I was simply awake taking in the night air when I heard someone approach. Your gait is rather unique, at the moment.”

“Tch.” Fushimi glared at his own crutches, even as Munakata stood and motioned for Fushimi to take the spot he’d just abandoned. “I’m fine. I’m not an invalid, Captain.”

“Even so,” Munakata said, not missing a beat. “I believe you were told to rest your leg until the injury has fully healed. Walking around the grounds late at night will do nothing for your recovery, Fushimi-kun.”

Fushimi rolled his eyes but even so he carefully made his way to the chair, Munakata smoothly taking the crutches from him as he gingerly sat down. The persistent throbbing ache in his right thigh eased slightly and he sat there for a moment with his head down, catching his breath.

“As I recall, bed rest was also a part of the doctor’s orders,” Munakata noted. One hand hovered inches above Fushimi’s shoulder, not quite touching, and Fushimi’s fingers twitched slightly. He was used to having that invisible wall surrounding him, of course – he’d cultivated it for years, the fortification he’d never allowed even Misaki to breach entirely. But now it was as though he could see a secondary wall beside his own, a thin line separating himself from the man standing next to him, and it irritated him for reasons he couldn’t explain.

“Wasn’t tired.” Fushimi shrugged. “I’ve had enough rest to last me a lifetime. If someone would stop fussing and let me back on duty…”

“It will do you no good to tax your body further before you have had a chance to properly heal,” Munakata said, still blandly pleasant but with a definite edge to his words. “I do not intend to send you back into the field only for you to do yourself more harm.”

“And what about you?” Fushimi said sharply, glancing up to meet Munakata’s gaze at last. “Seem to recall I’d heard _you_ were injured too, fighting the Gray King. Shouldn’t you be on bed rest too, Captain?”

“Oh?” Munakata raised an eyebrow, amused, but his voice was still calm and careful. From his position looking up Fushimi could almost make out the thin scar of the stitches on Munakata’s forehead, a slight dark cast to the skin that could have been a bruise or else just the shadows playing tricks again. “Were you worried about me, Fushimi-kun?”

“Don’t be stupid,” Fushimi muttered. “I just thought if you were going to lecture _me_ about staying in bed I should get to return the favor.”

“I am touched by your concern, Fushimi-kun,” Munakata said with a slight upturn in his smile, a hint of something real working its way through the mask. “But you need not worry about me. My wound has healed fine and I am more than fit for duty. After all, considering our current situation with the loss of the Slate, combined with the increase in Strain activity, I’m afraid there is no time for me to rest.”

“That’s bullshit,” Fushimi said curtly, the words pouring out of his mouth before he could restrain himself. He rose slightly, one arm propped up on the chair back to help him keep his balance, most of his weight resting on his left leg. “The Lieutenant and the others can handle it. I could–”

“You have not been cleared for duty.” Munakata turned away from him and _that_ made Fushimi’s unexpected anger spark even hotter, so much so that he let go of the chair and stood on his own two feet as he stared at Munakata’s back. “There is no need for you to trouble yourself with my condition. A King–”

“But you’re not a King anymore,” Fushimi broke in sharply, taking a limping step forward. “Right?”

Munakata’s shoulders tensed almost imperceptibly for a moment, something like the slightest catching of breath before the exhale, and then relaxed again.

_(The Blue King, who had never needed any reassurance, least of all from someone like him. But this wasn’t the Blue King anymore – only Munakata Reisi, the remnants left behind after the flood, running dry.)_

“Blunt as always.” Munakata looked back at him with a wry smile. They were still so close but Fushimi had the distinct impression that Munakata was moving away from him even so, to somewhere he couldn’t quite reach.

The last time he had been in this room they had been dead men, the both of them, a different Sword of Damocles over each of their heads. And now it was as though he could still see it there in the dark, a shine of blue above Munakata’s head, the thing that had not left him, not yet.

“You’re an idiot,” Fushimi said coldly, because it was the only way he knew to speak the words. Kindness was never something that fit easily in his mouth, gentleness a foreign object to him entirely. “So certain your plan would succeed and you’d take care of things all on your own. I guess that’s what they call the arrogance of Kings, huh, Captain?” He felt the smile twisting his face and the wound on his leg throbbed as he took another step towards the man he had sworn himself to follow, even if he had only just truly realized the meaning of that vow. “You said it yourself, that we wouldn’t be able to return here again if the mission at Mihashira failed. And now that we _are_ here, you don’t know what to do with yourself.” A bitter laugh escaped his throat, tearing on the thorns of his voice and his legs shook. “It pisses me off. Locking yourself away won’t bring back the Slate…or anyone else.” His eyes were hard as he looked Munakata full in the face. “Suoh Mikoto’s ghost won’t be any better served by you refusing to let yourself _live,_ Captain.”

Munakata’s expression rippled for only a moment, the slightest shake in his eyes before the usual impenetrable calm settled back over his features and Fushimi suddenly wanted to grab him, shake him until all the dignity of a King dropped away and only a human was left behind.

_(Wanted to know, perhaps, that beneath it all Munakata was still human, and could still be touched even by hands as filthy as his own.)_

“You should go back to your room, Fushimi-kun.” Munakata’s voice was gentle and it pissed Fushimi off, another spike of anger shooting through him hotter than the pain radiating strongly now from his trembling right thigh. “You require rest. We can speak of this again in the morning.”

“I’m fine,” Fushimi said darkly, well aware that he wasn’t – but then, when had he ever been really, even that night when he’d laid on the bed and opened himself to the man in front of him in ways he’d never anticipated. “You’re the idiot who hasn’t even rested once since he came back. Think about your own health. You’re not…” He grimaced, fists clenching. “You aren’t superhuman anymore, Captain. What the hell do you expect the rest of us to do if you collapse?”

“I do not intend to collapse,” Munakata said, placating, as if talking to a child. “I am aware that I no longer have the power I once did, Fushimi-kun. Even so, I do not intend to…give up, as you put it, so easily. There is much work to be done, and–”

“Shut up,” Fushimi snapped. “You keep acting like you’re the only one supporting everyone here. You don’t need to hold the country up on your own anymore, Captain. Devoting yourself to what’s no longer here won’t bring anyone back. It’s not like you to throw away yourself in service of some stupid apology to a man long dead.” His throat felt raw and his eyes burned, and Fushimi pushed the feelings away. “You sent me down into the dark because you knew you’d made a plan to bring me out of it. Who was supposed to bring you out, Captain?”

Fushimi took another step forward and the words Munakata had been about to speak in reply were cut short as Fushimi’s right leg finally gave out from under him. In moments the space between them was no more, Munakata’s hands steadying his shoulders as Fushimi leaned his head wearily against him.

“You should sit down, Fushimi-kun,” Munakata said softly and this time Fushimi could hear it, could feel the emotion in the way Munakata’s breath blew warm on his face. One of Munakata’s hands rested strong and still just below the back of his neck, pulling his head close against Munakata’s chest. “I did not exert so much to retrieve you from that place only to lose you now.”

“You too.” Fushimi’s hands moved almost on their own, reaching up to entangle themselves in the fabric of Munakata’s robe, the unexpected closeness making him feel light-headed. “I told you before. I expected you to return unharmed as well. You…” He took a shuddering breath, mouth stumbling over the words he was so unused to speaking. “I can’t afford to lose you either, Captain.”

There was a pause, the sound of breath catching and for a moment time seemed to freeze, Munakata’s eyes staring into his as unfathomable as always but shining with something deeper that he could almost grasp, and then Munakata’s mouth sealed itself over his.

The kiss was different, this time, from the last time he’d been in this room, in this position – the kisses from that time that had repeated themselves so often over and over in his dreams during his time in jungle had been rushed, desperate, two drowning men grasping at each other for air. There had been want there, _need,_ but above it all a kind of resignation, the belief that they would not see each other again and so this moment and this night was all they would have, all they could have. Munakata’s kiss this time was entirely the opposite of that, slow and deep, Munakata’s hands grasping him by the shoulders and pulling him closer as Munakata’s tongue worked its way into his mouth and Fushimi allowed it, responded in kind. He could feel his heart pounding hard against his chest, his breath suddenly coming short and shaking, and his hands pushed feebly beneath Munakata’s robe to brush at the bare skin beneath, palm resting against Munakata’s chest where he could _feel_ the steady heartbeat underneath the skin.

“Fushimi-kun.” Munakata pulled away from him then and there was a slight flush to his face, something shining in his eyes, and for a moment Fushimi wondered if something had gone wrong that this person looked so suddenly real to him, _human._ “Are you all right?”

_(Not a King, not really, but the sight of him still made Fushimi’s breath catch in his throat, made his heart flutter and his skin tingle with something like fascination. The Dresden Slate was no more, but Munakata was, would always be…)_

“…My King.” The words breathed themselves from his mouth, unbidden, and this time Fushimi was the one who leaned in for the kiss. Munakata responded in kind, one hand running through his hair, fingers against his scalp, and Fushimi whimpered a little into his mouth.

“You’re injured.” Munakata’s words were gentle when he pulled away, eyes darting briefly to Fushimi’s thigh, towards the wound he no doubt knew was there hidden beneath clothes and bandages. “I would not overburden your body in this situation, regardless of my own personal feelings.”

“I’m fine.” He knew the words were half a lie and that it wouldn’t fool Munakata in the least, but it didn’t matter either. His entire body felt on fire, heat already pooling between his legs and a bonfire in his throat, a deep and yearning _hunger_ for that touch. They were two dead men brought back alive, and he felt like a phoenix in the midst of rebirth by fire – consumed by a need to burn away those memories of a dark night and desperate connecting of bodies, to replace it anew with a world where they would both awaken side by side the next morning and every morning on from there, without fear.

_(A stupid child’s dream, perhaps, but he was still a stupid child himself and for the first time in a long time Fushimi felt the need to grasp at something precious, to hold it in his hands like a treasure, to keep it close and let it consume him without wondering what would happen when it broke.)_

“I do not intend to do you further harm, after having brought you back in such poor shape to begin with,” Munakata said, sounding something like severe. His cheeks were still flushed though, and Fushimi thought he could see the need there too, for a cleanse and a rebirth, and he hooked his arms around Munakata’s neck, carefully heaving himself up so that they were face to face.

“Stop worrying about me and do it already.” Fushimi tried to sound irritated and failed miserably. Even so he managed a crooked smile, head tilted to one side as he looked Munakata full in the face. “Do I need to say it again? I want you to fuck me, Captain.”

Munakata’s eyes widened for just a moment and then he laughed, the sound echoing clear through the room and through Fushimi’s head, and Fushimi looked away with an irritated click of his tongue even as Munakata’s arms wrapped around him and pulled him close. It should have felt like a vise, like a trap he couldn’t escape, and yet Fushimi felt something in him _relax_ even so.

“I suppose I cannot refuse such a direct request.” Munakata laughed again and suddenly Fushimi found himself being lifted into the air, held bridal style in Munakata’s arms. Fushimi felt all the heat rushing to his face and he squirmed, annoyed.

“Captain, what the hell are you–”

“As I said, Fushimi-kun, I would not want to burden your body too much.” The lightness in his voice was more of a relief than Fushimi was willing to admit and there was such clear _tenderness_ in his smile that it took Fushimi’s breath away, made his entire body tingle with nerves and need, with the desire to open his hands towards everything he’d pulled away from before. “That being so, I imagine you can indulge me in my desire to ‘take you to bed,’ as it were.”

“Tch.” Fushimi clicked his tongue but allowed Munakata to carry him back towards the bedroom, their intertwined shadow painted on the wall between the flashes of lamplight. Fushimi barely had time to register his own annoyance at being carried like a helpless child before Munakata lips were on his again and he was being laid down gently on the bed with Munakata’s full weight pressing on top of him. There was a moment of panic that he couldn’t stop – the rest of him was still far from relaxed and that was a reflex that would take more than simple comfort to train himself out of anyway – but Fushimi arched his head up to meet the kiss anyway, fingers grasping at the sleeves of Munakata’s robe. The movement had caused the knot tying it shut to come undone and the garment hung loosely off Munakata’s shoulders, exposing the full expanse of his chest.

There were bruises there, small ones, tiny splashes of black and blue against pale flawless white, and Fushimi traced the curve of one with his index finger as Munakata’s mouth continued to press again his and Munakata’s own hand slid down to unzip Fushimi’s pants.

Fushimi swallowed down another whimper, curving his neck as Munakata ran a hand down his cheek, fingers gentle and sure as Munakata leaned back to look down at him.

Shadows marked his skin and then – unbidden –  another flash of memory, of a different struggle in the dark.

_“Pathetic.”_

Fushimi felt himself tense again, hands down against the mattress and clutching at bedsheets as he tried to keep his expression calm. Munakata seemed to notice his distress nonetheless, moving back to give him space while still keeping one hand steady against him, fingers tracing the line of his collarbone, cold hands against flushed skin.

“Fushimi-kun…” Munakata half breathed the word, soft like a prayer, and Fushimi couldn’t look away from him. “You have done everything I asked, flawlessly. You showed superb loyalty in risking yourself to carry out my orders, despite the danger to yourself. And as instructed, you returned to my side once again. I…”

“Shut up,” Fushimi bit the words out harsher than he’d intended, and Munakata paused. “I don’t…you don’t need to reassure me, Captain.” He shifted in Munakata’s arms, every synapse in his brain screaming to deny this closeness even as the rest of his body curved itself to fit, even as the stirrings beneath his skin begged for the touch he’d always assumed would be beyond him, the closeness he’d never let himself feel before.

_(Save once, a cold night in a darkened room, no future to fear, no path to choose but the one with the abrupt drop at the end.)_

“Even so.” Munakata’s lips pressed gently against his collar, a small light kiss like a star floating to the earth. “If there is anything that begs me to live, as you so eloquently put it, it is this happiness. That I requested you return, and you did so.”

“You’re getting sentimental, Captain.” Fushimi tried to sound flippant but even he couldn’t deny the slight choke in his throat that strangled his words. Munakata laughed again, a vibration against his skin, and suddenly his body felt alive with Munakata’s touch, hands and teeth and tongue as Munakata worked at him, pulled him close, made him whole again.

Fushimi leaned back and allowed it, fire in his stomach as Munakata’s hands slipped under his shirt and beneath the waistband of his pants, pulling up and off, leaving him lying open and naked in the cool night air.

Naked, save for the bandages that covered his whole body, his right thigh and around his bruised torso, reminders of what that trip into the underground had cost him.

There was a moment of – it was hard to call it hesitation, when there was a part of him that was still so sure that Munakata Reisi never hesitated, only strode forward confidently no matter the situation. But there was still a pause there as Munakata stared down at Fushimi’s body that he had just laid bare and with it all the bruises and bandages and scars from his time in jungle, a patchwork story written on his skin.

Fushimi wondered for a moment if this would be enough to break it, to tear apart whatever spell had pulled the two of them together, and then Munakata bent over him again and kissed at the small scar on his left hip, teeth grazing lightly against the wound. 

“Mmm…” It felt _good_ , a small jolt of pain tinged with pleasure that shuddered through his body as Munakata’s mouth traveled down from the scar, tongue brushing against the lower curve of Fushimi’s stomach, fingers tracing out a trail on his bandaged leg from the outer curve to the inner thigh. Munakata slowly massaged his leg with one hand, tension easing easily under his fingers, other hand moving low on his left side, brushing against his erection with a feather light touch that nonetheless made him shudder, hips thrusting forward in an involuntary expression of overt need that made Fushimi’s lip curl even as another soft moan escaped his lips.

“Do you wish to go further?” Another echo, polite as always. Fushimi didn’t bother to reply, hips bucking again, but even so there was a sudden rush of cold against his skin as Munakata removed his hands. “Fushimi-kun?”

He didn’t need to ask this time and they both knew it, and Fushimi snorted quietly, laughing low in his throat.

“I’m not saying it for you again, Captain.” His voice was a shaking breath, the throbbing between his legs almost painful, the desire to be _touched_ still unsated. “But if _you_ want to stop I’m sure I can…take care of myself.” He didn’t bother to turn his gaze away from Munakata’s own body, the open robe and the clear signs of Munakata’s own desire clear in front of him. 

Munakata only laughed again in reply, running a hand through Fushimi’s hair in an almost thoughtless gesture, simple and unplanned, and Fushimi closed his eyes as Munakata’s long fingers tangled themselves in his hair. He could hear the sound of a drawer being opened and closed and then felt the mattress shift beneath him as Munakata adjusted his position.

Fushimi tensed slightly as he felt Munakata’s hands on his thighs, gently nudging them apart, and he angled his head back with eyes still shut, waiting for that initial push of burn and stretch that he had only felt once before. Munakata’s fingertips ghosted around his entrance, just light enough for him to feel their trace, and he bit his lip as he forced his body to relax.

Then a warm mouth closed over his cock at the same moment a finger worked itself inside of him and Fushimi’s eyes flashed open with a strangled gasp of pleasure, entire body jolting slightly with the unexpected sensation.

“C…Captain…” Fushimi half whimpered the word and he felt the vibration along his cock as Munakata chuckled quietly. Munakata’s free hand was wrapped around the base of Fushimi’s erection, pumping slowly as Munakata’s tongue teased the head of his cock. Munakata’s finger pressing inside of him was joined by a second, pushing forward at a slight angle, searching for the spot that Munakata had found so easily before. Small jolts of pain shot up his body and merged with the haze of pleasure already fogging up his mind, vision blurry as he focused on the sight of Munakata’s head bobbing slowly up and down over his erection.

Munakata’s fingers pushed in just so and a deeper moan broke from Fushimi’s throat, forced itself out from clenched teeth as Munakata’s fingers brushed his prostate at the same moment Munakata took his cock even deeper into his throat. One of Fushimi’s hands clutched at the bedsheets, trying to hold his body steady in order to keep himself from thrusting up into the mouth that felt so warm around him. Munakata showed no signs of discomfort whatsoever, eyes shining in clear amusement as the tip of his tongue brushed just below the head of Fushimi’s cock. Fushimi could already feel the heat beginning to pool low in the pit of his stomach, nerves on fire with every push of Munakata’s fingers and touch of his tongue, and one hand grasped unconsciously towards Munakata, tearing at the bedsheets.

Munakata seemed to sense his feelings, removing his mouth from Fushimi’s cock slowly, tongue running down the shaft as his fingers pressed in one last time. His mouth was moving, forming the shape of words Fushimi couldn’t seem to hear, and when he bent down for another kiss Fushimi could taste salt and sweat on his tongue.

“Relax, Fushimi-kun.” Munakata’s words were gentle when he pulled away, another hand running through Fushimi’s bangs that were already soaked with sweat, a light kiss against his forehead and eyes that refused to move from his. Part of Fushimi was desperate to break that gaze – the feeling that he’d been caught, trapped somehow, and would be devoured if he didn’t move away – but he couldn’t seem to turn his head or close his eyes. Munakata’s own eyes didn’t so much as waver as Munakata shifted his position again, gazes locked even at the moment Munakata entered him.

Fushimi hissed quietly at the small shock of pain, though not the pain he’d been expecting – Munakata had prepared him better than Fushimi had thought, his body stretching easily to accommodate the sudden foreign intrusion, but his injuries weren’t so forgiving. His right thigh was trembling again and he could suddenly feel every ache in his body. His mouth opened as if to say something – what he didn’t know, no desire to ask Munakata to stop or hold back, the aches of his injuries nothing compared to the more immediate need throbbing between his legs.

“ _Relax,_ Fushimi-kun.” Munakata’s words were breathed into his ear, hands massaging his shoulders, and Fushimi took a steadying breath, eyes half closed.

“I’m fine. You can move.”

“I have no desire to injure you further.” There was clear worry in Munakata’s voice but Fushimi could feel the shake of desire there too, so sudden and unexpectedly _human_ that it made him laugh even as another shock of pain wracked his body. He ignored it, swallowed it down. It wouldn’t last long anyway, not once they got moving.

“Just move.” Fushimi ran his tongue over suddenly dry lips. “I’m all right. Just…have to get used to it.”

“I won’t have you in pain,” and Munakata’s hand was so _gentle,_ through his hair and over his forehead, along his cheeks, wiping the sweat away.

_(It was sweat, it was definitely sweat, and he refused to entertain any idea of the alternative.)_

It had been something of an invasion before, he knew that, fullness that he hadn’t expected and hadn’t been entirely prepared for, his body spread open and vulnerable under the chains of Munakata;s touch. But he knew this was different – even if he tried to pull away from it, tried to close his eyes against it, there was the undeniable sense of two pieces fitting where they hadn’t before, as though he was one of Munakata’s puzzles made complete at last.

_“If this world displeases you, remake it,”_ and he would, this time, they would, and Fushimi’s hands reached out to pull Munakata closer to him.

“The pain will go away if you just _move_ ,” Fushimi murmured, pulling Munakata close enough so that their mouths were almost touching. “I asked for this, so…”

“And how could I possibly deny you, after all you’ve done for me?” Munakata’s voice was low and tinged with amusement, head angling down to press his lips against Fushimi’s as he thrust his hips forward. 

It _hurt_ , an ache down to his bones, but Fushimi did his best to keep his expression neutral and his hands steady as Munakata’s mouth moved lower to suck lightly at the base of his collar. Fushimi squirmed slightly beneath him, Munakata’s hands running slowly along the curve of Fushimi’s sides, tracing the line of bruises and bandages, and suddenly Fushimi’s hips bucked forward as Munakata’s next thrust hit his prostate.

“Ah…” Mouth opened and Fushimi suddenly felt strong hands hooking themselves beneath his arms, body pulled up into a sitting position so that he was practically in Munakata’s lap, Munakata’s hands on his sides keeping him upright without Fushimi needing to exert any energy at all. “C-Captain, what–”

“Hush.” Munakata breathed the words into his ear, hands still steadying him even as Munakata’s hips thrust forward and Fushimi’s back arched with the wave of pleasure that accompanied the movement. “Also me to take care of you, Fushimi-kun.”

Fushimi almost wanted to argue with him – just like before, Munakata always treating him so lightly as if he would break apart from something so simple, but the words couldn’t make their way past his throat, swallowed by harsh pants and soft whimpers as Munakata thrust inside of him. Fushimi’s hands grasped for Munakata’s shoulders, holding tight, fingers curling with each new wave of pleasure and he wondered if he’d leave scratch marks there in the morning. Munakata didn’t tell him to stop though, only kissed him again, his own grunts of effort soft and steady.

Another thrust and Fushimi fell close against him so that he could almost feel Munakata’s heartbeat pounding rapidly through the skin. Fushimi’s own heartbeat was like a flutter in his chest, his breath coming close and short in rhythm with Munakata’s own soft gasping, a perfect match to the movement of Munakata’s cock inside him.

_(Heartbeat, breath –_ live, _in the echoes of it, a song for them both and hadn’t Fushimi almost given up himself that time in the underground, accepted the fall of his own sword, and then he’d been saved. For this person he had offered all that he had, bare back against the sheets of the bed, the belief that he would spend himself and nothing more would be left behind. But he’d been pulled from the dark, been restored to life, and that heartbeat was proof of it.)_

“Fushimi-kun.” His name falling from Munakata’s lips as Munakata’s hands explored every inch of him, long thin fingers and insistent tongue, and Fushimi held onto him, pulled him close as Munakata continued to hit his sweet spot with every thrust, Fushimi’s own erection painful and leaking pre-cum as he neared his peak.

_(“_ _Who was supposed to bring you out, Captain?”)_

“Captain.” He breathed it into Munakata’s mouth, insides clenching around Munakata’s erection as if to bring Munakata deeper into himself and it almost felt like he could feel Munakata trembling against him.

_(The Blue King would never have trembled, of course,but it had never been simply to the Blue King that his loyalty had been pledged.)_

Munakata’s cock brushed his prostate again and Fushimi could feel himself teetering just on the edge of release, nerves on fire, body soaked in sweat and each touch against his skin almost painful from the stimulation of all the sensations hitting him at once.

“Saruhiko…” The word was nothing more than a soft gasp in his ears and it was enough, that name spoken in a voice thick with need, and Fushimi clutched at Munakata as he came, unable to stop the wordless cry that spilled from his mouth as his body spasmed with release.

He was still shaking lightly when he felt Munakata reach his own climax, warmth filling his insides as Munakata shuddered against him and Fushimi leaned down for another kiss. Munakata returned it slowly, as if savoring every taste of his lips before lowering Fushimi back down against the bed. With the haze of his own orgasm fading Fushimi could suddenly feel all his aches and pains beginning to remind him of their existence once again and he grimaced as Munakata carefully pulled out of him.

Part of Fushimi couldn’t help but tense, the sudden rush of reminder of what they had done and the unfamiliar step he had taken forward without quite even meaning to. He could feel Munakata’s gaze on him, measuring as if deciding what step to take next, and then arms wrapping themselves around him again as Munakata laid down beside him and pulled him close.

“Are you in pain, Fushimi-kun?” Munakata asked quietly and Fushimi clicked his tongue.

“Nothing I can’t handle,” Fushimi muttered and he could feel Munakata’s answering glare without even needing to look up. “I’ve suffered worse.”

“That is not an encouraging answer, Fushimi-kun,” Munakata said with a small sigh, one hand cupping Fushimi’s chin and forcing him to look up so that their eyes could meet. Fushimi squirmed away from the touch, suddenly tired and awkward as he clicked his tongue.

“It’s nothing. Don’t worry about me so much.”

“I believe you were the one scolding me for neglecting myself only a short while ago,” Munakata said with some amusement. “I suppose this is something we will both need to work on.”

“Speak for yourself,” Fushimi murmured petulantly even as he allowed Munakata to pull him closer. “You don’t need to give me any kind of special treatment, Captain.”

“Indulge me,” Munakata replied, his arms warm and almost _safe_ entwined around Fushimi’s body, and what should have felt like a cage was anything but. “Fushimi-kun…thank you.”

“For what?” The clear drowsiness in his voice made the words come out like the whine of an annoyed child but Fushimi couldn’t quite bring himself to care.

“For coming back to me,” Munakata said softly. “And for…'bringing me out,’ as you put it.”

Munakata’s eyes were bright in the darkness and Fushimi felt his whole body shudder slightly, a memory of the first time he saw this person suddenly stark in his mind – that presence that had always been so overwhelming, a universe trapped inside the hands of a single man, and without even realizing it Fushimi reached for him, pulled himself close.

“…You too, Captain.” The words were half-muffled by his face buried in Munakata’s collar. “For coming back.”

_Thank you,_ words he didn’t yet know how to say plain, but it didn’t matter. Munakata’s arms were warm around him, and they had all the time in the world.


End file.
